


Superior

by silvercobwebs



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, But not exactly, Canonical Character Death, Character Death Fix, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-22
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-12 16:12:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/813482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvercobwebs/pseuds/silvercobwebs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little attempt at a fix-it fic after the events of Amazing & Superior Spider-Man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please read for background explanation if you’re not familiar with current book canon:
> 
> My ‘fix-it’ fic for the events leading up to and after the most recent series of Spider-Man. If you haven’t read it, then all you basically need to know is that a dying Otto Octavius managed to switch bodies with Peter Parker, and by doing so killed Peter.
> 
> However, in a last moment unbelievable change of character Otto decided he wanted to be a ‘better, superior’ Spider-Man, which he’s doing by acting like a creepy killer who has murdered someone and taken over their life. I’m a little biased against this storyline. For the first few issues however we have Peter’s ghost who sticks around, and for purposes of this fic, he’s still about, without Otto’s knowledge.
> 
> Wade is still canon Wade, but no Agent Preston. (don’t worry if you don’t know who Agent Preston is)

He’s in Peter’s apartment, mid-way through his afternoon snack when he finally realises. Wade’s shovelling the ever escaping curls of onion into his mouth as quickly as they fall from the hot dog bun, and it’s funny, he thinks as he slurps up the last straggler, because maybe if he’d never offered Peter a ‘dog that one time, maybe they’d have never really talked, and maybe they’d never have started to date. And he remembers the look Peter gave him back then, the way he somehow made the eyes on his costume all squinty and suspicious and stupidly adorable, and how it’s not much longer before he sees those gorgeous eyes for real and laughs because somehow they manage do _the exact same thing_.

He can’t really explain it, but the way Pete looks at him sometimes… Wade pauses. Considers. Not looks. _Looked_. He must’ve been given a raw bit of meat or something, because it tastes real awful all of a sudden, and he can hardly swallow. The thing is, Peter barely even looks at him at all nowadays, he’s so damn busy with his stupid ‘new-and-improved-Spidey – tougher on stains but gentler on civilians’ sciencey stuff, but Wade persevered (everyone says how trying he is! Cue studio audience laughter) and managed to steal a kiss that morning, and suddenly it’s like a ton of bricks have fallen on his chest because the look Peter gave him then…

Was not Peter.

The food drops from his hands and Wade barely makes it to the bathroom before the contents of his stomach escape violently, and he finds he can’t breathe. His throat has swollen shut and his ears are pounding and he’s choking because he can’t breathe because _that was not Peter Parker_.

Wade gasps like a freshly landed fish. His body is rebelling, more so than usual. Every single cell has turned on him, crackling and bursting with endless energy that insists on consuming him. His eyes squeeze shut and he just knows that any moment he’s going to hear a little ‘pop’ and he’ll be found on the bathroom floor in a million fragments.

Its like Typhoid Mary again, only a hundred times worse and an infinity scarier, and just as Wade’s reflexes kick in and he finally takes a deep, shuddering breath, the front door slams and he appears.

‘Good evening Wilson, I see you’ve already forgotten our little talk about hyg-‘

Wade is feebly attempting to get back to his feet when Peter’s face appears around the bathroom door, and their gazes lock. Wade can’t tear his eyes away. Can’t understand just what he’s looking at exactly, because every precious thread of logic and sense he still has tells him this is the man he’s finally realised he’s utterly, ridiculously, dangerously in love with. Only not.

‘Where is he?’

He’s pretty certain he could hurl again if he had anything left in his belly.

‘Oh’, says not!Peter, breaking the silence. Eyebrows slowly drawn down, he doesn’t even bother to conceal the initial distaste from his features. ‘I see your tiny yet astonishingly observant little mind has finally made the connection. I’m somewhat impressed.’ His smile is a shark. ‘You may console yourself with the knowledge that for one shining moment, you were smarter than all of the Avengers put together. Excluding myself, of course’ Tooth after tooth, perfectly white. Serene.

Peter…

Not Peter.

‘Who the hell are you?’ Wade stumbles backwards, nearly falling into the bowl. ‘What…What have you done…’ The air is fizzing with static. Someone upstairs has screwed with the gravity because he keeps thinking he’s going to either float away or fall to the floor and never get up.

Otto takes two short steps into the tiny room and Wade can feel warm breath in his cheek as the other man whispers into his ear with the voice of a dead man. ‘Why, I’m Peter Parker, of course, young fellow. I’m Spider-Man, and you’d be better off remembering that, Deadpool, because nothing – I assure you – _nothing_ will ever convince the world otherwise.’

Wade is frozen to the spot.

Otto sighs, and for a moment something approaching regret crosses his features. He pats Wade’s shoulder.

I’m afraid the former occupant of this body, however, is quite dead, admittedly thanks to my genius. A mind-body transfer, with added memories of the former host – if we must reduce it to the simplest possible explanation.’ He frowns. ‘I’m… sorry for your loss. However-‘

‘Well gee whiz Mister Exposition Trope Super-Villain ,’ Wade drawls as cold metal presses into Otto’s chin whilst fingers dig gouges into the hand on his shoulder. The gun remains steady in the mercenary’s grasp. Wade’s smile is ripped into scarred flesh. ‘See, when you put it like that then…’

‘No!’ Otto shrieks.

‘No!’ Peter yells.

‘Yes!’ Wade snarls. ‘Wait, what?’

Click.

-and pt 1


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wade and Peter and… “Peter” have a chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Possible triggers for mentions of canon rape of a character. Please see notes to part one for further background info.

‘Guess I’m outta bullets,’ Wade muses opaquely as he allows the weapon to be snatched from his grasp. His gaze is distracted by something much more interesting.

‘You utter lunatic!’ Otto squawks. ‘You could have killed me!’

‘No, you could have killed _me_ you life-stealing jackass. _Again_.’ the blue tinted apparition of the real Peter Parker snaps right back, but Octavius doesn’t seem to notice.

‘Peter…’ Wade blinks, unmasked face revealing impossibly wide eyes.

‘Yes, Peter, if you wish to delve into semantics.’ The gun is neatly rendered unusable with a flick of a super-powered wrist.

‘You can see me?! I’ve been hollering at you for the past week! Geez… Wade, I am so sorry.’

‘Oh my god you’re actually-’ Wade begins again, whilst Peter violently shakes his head, long arms flailing.

‘No! No! No! He doesn’t know I’m here, and you can’t let him know now!’

‘…in his body,’ Wade slowly finishes, his eyes darting from one form to the other. Peter has never seen him look so shaken, so scared before in his life, except for perhaps after the night terrors. And there’s nothing he can do now but bob around like an apple in a barrel. Helpless. No! He won’t allow it.

Something flickers in Pe- Ott- _whoever’s_ eyes before he nods. ‘No longer his body, Deadpool. _Mine_.’

Wade’s fists clench ‘And what makes you think I’m not gonna turn you into some kind of novelty creepy crawly Sure ‘n Turf?’ (What? Octopus are surf, and you get spiders around the lawn all the time) Of course Wade has a very good reason hovering less than a foot away, but he has to keep up this façade.

‘Because, contrary to your little display back there, I know you couldn’t ever kill him,’ Otto’s voice has stopped wobbling. ‘You were bluffing, naturally. You merely startled me. Now that leaves the simple question of what to do with you…’

Peter’s form moves around alongside Otto’s, and it’s clear that he seems to be tethered somehow.

Wade, you’ve got to give him a good reason to keep you around.’ Peter urges. ‘He might not be able to kill you, but I promise you – a guy who thinks multiple robotic arms are the new Uggs is going to get very _creative_.’

‘You don’t have to do anything with me at all, y’know,’ Wade finds himself saying without preamble. What a relief. He can just turn his brain off and let his mouth run freely. ‘I mean – I can’t kill you, can’t exactly stop you from saving one-legged orphaned kittens from trees,’ he continues, ticking off each point on a long finger. ‘No-one’s gonna believe anything I say about you – Earth’s Mightiest Blowhards don’t even know we’re dat- ’ he falters. ‘Were dating… I got nuthin’.’ He shrugs. ‘You win – sashay right past “Go”, collect a little pocket change.’ A hollow noise escapes his throat which Otto almost mistakes for laugher. ‘Sure as hell got yourself a Get Out of Jail Free card, right?’

Wade’s glance barely wavers as he reaches for a spare mask from the cupboard and tugs it on. Only Peter gets to see him without his face on. ‘So I’m asking you big guy,’ he continues, and Peter can almost feel the burning intensity of the next question as it’s directed squarely at him ‘ _What could I possibly do to you now?_ ’

‘Just keep him talking a little longer.’ Peter sighs, and runs a hand through his hair.

Otto arches a brow and hmms thoughtfully. ‘True enough that you’re intellectually – well let’s be quite honest – physically, and in all aspects are utterly inferior to me, Parker seemed to still deem that you not be under-estimated. However, I have learnt that he placed far too much faith on wishy-washy unknown qualia-‘

‘I’d almost forgotten how much he loves the sound of his own voice once he gets going,’ Peter crosses his arms over his chest.

‘And I refuse,’ Otto continues. ‘to make the same mistakes.’

Looking up from the non-existent watch on his wrist, Wade fakes an enormous yawn. ‘Wheweee, would you look at my wrist? Better gimme an answer sharpish Doc, ‘cos it looks like you’re head’s about to pop if it inflates any more, and I really don’t want to get brain spunk on my snazzy new Lycra ™ (you all heard the tm, right?) supersoftened pants.’

Peter grins. Oh good, Wade’s being a flippant asshole again. Huh. He never thought he’d be so pleased about that.

Octavius snarls lightly, and on Peter’s face it looks almost comical. It’s as if he’s wearing a new pair of shoes and they’re on the wrong feet.

‘I am not impressed by your buffoonery-‘

‘Did you just make that word up?’

‘Silence imbecile!’

Peter continues to ignore him in favour of drifting closer to Wade. ‘Look, don’t freak out or anything but I want to try something. Just try to keep still for at least five and a half seconds, I know it’ll be a struggle…’

‘Okay,’ Wade sighs. ‘I’ll just sit quietly in the corner like a good widdle boy.’

Peter reaches out towards Wade’s shoulder and pauses whilst Otto snorts derisively. ‘Perhaps there may be a use for you yet.’

‘How are you managing to keep all this dual conversation up anyway?’ Peter asks, suddenly impressed. ‘I mean, you have the attention span of a concussed gnat, for goodness sakes.’

‘I have many skills,’ Wade replies primly, waiting for Peter to do…whatever the hell it is he said he’d be doing. From the looks of it he’s going for a full-on possession gig. Should he be expecting Winchesters to turn up on the doorstep soon? Maybe he should start cutting down on the sodium…

Otto does not share Peter’s awe. ‘Well it would appear you have at least one.’

Peter snorts. ‘You are _nothing_ like Xena.’

It’s funny how quickly they both fall into these little traps.

‘But you have to admit I have the figure for it.’

‘For what?’ Otto frowns as Peter rolls his eyes, ignoring his corporeal form below. ‘Not with those thighs.’

‘Hey, what do you have against my legs anyways?’ Wade huffs. ‘They’ve beautifully toned, I’ll have you know. I could be Thighmaster’s poster boy. Fab abs and thighs you can crack a nut with, and why yes I do mean _that_ kind of nut.’

Otto’s frown deepens, and he follows Wade’s gaze to… nothing. ‘I have made no comment-‘

‘I wasn’t talking to you, Inferior Spidey.’

‘Even I’m aware that little jibe was pathetically weak.’ Octavius’ patience is wearing thin.

Peter can already feel a headache coming on, and that really shouldn’t be a thing that’s possible right now. ‘Wade can we please stop talking about your stupid fat legs and concentrate on-‘

‘Why are you always criticising my appearance? That’s definitely an -ism! I’m calling PETA!’

‘Wade, will you just SHUT UP!,’ Peter yells so loudly he thinks he sees Otto flinch for a moment.

‘I’m sorry,’ Wade murmurs, ‘I guess I was caught up in the moment.’

Peter experiences a small stab of guilt for the relief he feels that Wade already has a reputation for being crazy, because so Octavius will casually dismiss this. At least for now.

‘It’s okay,’ the two Peters wearily reply, and Wade’s teeth start to itch again. Before he realises it, Peter’s spectral form has passed in and through him, and it’s a pretty weird experience, to say the least. And Wade is intimately familiar with those. He feels cold for a moment, then a floaty sense of warmth in his stomach and then Peter has passed through him completely and returns to Otto’s side like a dog on too short a leash. He looks tired. Can that be good? Stupid emotions making him concerned over the health of a dead guy.

‘There, done.’ Peter rubs his face. ‘I think that should work, assuming my hypothesis is correct.’

Red material creases over Wade’s features. ‘You’re doing what now?’

Octavius waves a dismissive hand. ‘I am leaving and will consider this situation. Do not try anything foolish in the interim. It will not end well for you.’

‘Speaking of that actually,’ Wade absently rubs a scarred hand over his arm, wishing he was more appropriately dressed than his usual jeans-and-a-tee casual wear. His voice has dropped, and he stares fixedly at the tile floor. ‘How long have you…’ Oh yay, there’s a fresh batch of nausea making its way up to his gullet. He swallows, blurting out the next sentence. ‘I mean, have we made with the horizontal tango?’ Because he loves Pete – he honestly and truly does, but if this body stealing freak has pulled the full Mary on him, there’s going to be beloved body parts going AWOL.

It’s quite the contrast, to see the two faces make such opposite expressions.

‘Dear heavens, no.’ Otto quickly replies. ‘I find you utterly repugnant in every way. You are undisciplined, foolish, mentally deformed, and of course quite breathtakingly _ugly_. Besides, I don’t share the same proclivities as Parker, I’m sure we’re both relieved to hear.’

‘Oh. Well. Yay for me then.’

‘I want you and your things gone by the time I return. I will contact you if I have use for you.’

Peter is shaking with fury. He wants to hit something, and he can’t. He wants to hold Wade and kiss him, and tell him just how much bullshit Octavius is spitting, and he can’t.

But there is one thing he can do. Well, he’s pretty sure he can. He floats directly in front of Wade and shakes his head.

‘Ignore it. All of it. I need you to sleep tonight, Wade, you understand? I don’t care how, but you need to be asleep, and I’ll find you, okay?’

‘Got it loud and clear.’ Wade replies with a brightness that belies the feeling of his heart being compressed inch by inch. ‘Will do.’ He offers a half-hearted salute.

‘I’m going to find a way to fix this,’ Peter promises as his form is dragged away, step by agonising step. ‘I’m going to make it right.’

Wade nods dumbly.

‘And don’t forget to sleep!’

He shuts the door, stumbles to the bedroom and starts to throw a few thing to a bag. Octavius can dump the rest of his stuff, he doesn’t care. It doesn’t matter anyway. He picks up a mostly full bottle of whisky and stashes it under his arm. Peter needs him to sleep, huh? Well, he’s going to need a lot more booze to achieve that.

Wetness rolls from his chin and drips onto a hand. He pauses, and stares at it. Well that’s just dumb. Now his eyes are broken, and he’s only just grew a new pair in! It’s not like he’s got anything to get all drippy eyed about anyway. Pete’s going to figure out some genius plan tonight and everything’s going to be kittens and quesidillas by the morning. They’re totally due a happy ending by now. Hell – he’ll take a moderately cheerful ending if someone’s giving them out. (Someone? Anyone? Bueller?)

Or maybe, just maybe, Peter’s really dead and it’ll only be a matter of moments before he loses him forever because the whole damned universe really hates them with an unholy passion, and nothing but _nothing_ can stay good for them for long. Maybe.

Parker luck. Seems to be contagious.

-end pt.2


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wade and Peter finally get some alone time, but it’s all in Wade’s head…

Wade eventually stumbles back to his own miserable (but suitably large) warehouse apartment much later, bottles jangling with each step. Now girls and boys, for the sake of Our Dashing Hero, not to mention Equal Rights for Fuglies and the Recently Deceased, please watch and witness your collective jaws drop, expectations shatter and panties moisten as the Great and Powerful Deadpool proceeds to get completely trashed off his sweet ass! It’s okay kiddies, it’s for Science! And true love’s first kiss or something like that. Wait, wasn’t that Shrek?

He may have already been drinking a little, just to soften his liver up.

It takes a while, and frankly Wade’s rather proud of himself for not suffocating in a pile of suspicious coloured liquid which may or may not have been pilfered from a local cleaner’s supply closet, but he finally ends up passed out on his big empty bed, hoping that either Peter or his charming skeletal lady love are there waiting to greet him.

He’s relieved (no offence Death, it’s a puny human thing) to find that it’s Peter waiting for him on his battered old couch, looking mildly bored.

Wade scratches the side of his head. ‘Am I the dead one this time?’

‘Nope, that would still be me, although I am in you head.’ Peter replies before slowly getting to his feet. ‘What did it take to get you here?’

‘Uh,’ Wade frowns. ‘Twelve – thirteen?- bottles of Jack, big tub ‘o sleeping pills and something that may have been labelled as only suitable for use with certain industrial brands of motorised hedge trimmers.’

Peter nods absently. Wade responds in kind.

‘You’re going to need to lose the fabulous fashion accessories.’ Peter begins, pointing at Wade’s face. ‘I’d say it’s cute, but it’s actually horrendously depressing that even in your own head, you’re still wearing a mask.’

‘All I heard was that you think I’m cute, which fr-mpgh’ Wade’s sentence is cut off as his mask is forcibly removed and Peter’s lips (he’s dead, so why do they still feel so warm?) cover his own as they kiss.

Oh but how he did miss this.

Peter's arms wrap around him like a vice, which in Wade’s opinion is a Very Good Thing because he has no plans on letting the other man go anytime this millennium. The kiss is hungry and desperate – it’s been far too long for either of them, and there’s a part of Wade’s brain he can’t shut up which insists this is the last time they’ll ever be doing this. A slightly larger part is insisting that this isn’t happening in the first place.

Peter backs them onto the couch with only a slight ‘oof’ before wrapping long legs around Wade’s waist. He smiles after they break their kiss, fingers lightly stroking along the line of Wade’s jaw. ‘It’s possible I may have missed this – you – a lot.’

‘Same here,’ says Wade, but his smile is a fraction off.

Peter adjusts their position ever so slightly, feeling Wade’s comfortable weight press against him. ‘Before we, y’know, go any further I need you to do some things for me. I mean afterwards.’ his nose wrinkles as his thoughts and sentences collide. ‘After this, I mean – I need you to keep an eye open-.’

‘It’s kinda my top priority, Pete.’

‘No, not just him, I mean.’ Peter’s voice becomes serious. ‘I need you to make sure that Aunt May and MJ are safe, and not just from him. He thinks he’s doing good – but I’m in his _head_ , Wade, and he’s spent far more time trying to destroy that not, and it’s burned into his core.’

Wade’s brow arches, his grip loosens. ‘Like me.’

‘Maybe a little bit,’ Peter confesses, but tugs Wade’s arms back around him, ‘but also _a whole lot not like you_ , because I do know one thing for sure about you, and that’s in your heart of hearts you’re a good guy, and you want to be a good guy, even if you do screw it up a lot.’ They both smile, and Peter brushes his lips over the other man’s, feather-light. ‘And that’s strangely endearing, you know? It’s kinda why I believe in you.’

Wade can endure many forms of torture, no sweat. He’ll deal with pain, dismemberment, pointy things, rampaging Hulks, you name it – no problemo kiddo. But seeing _Peter Parker_ looking at him with those big brown eyes, telling him that he – of all people – believes in him? Well, it’s enough to break a guy. He swallows, hard.

‘Alright then, I’ll do my best.’

Peter nods. 'Good. You do that, and I’ll think of something to get me back,’ He pauses, chewing on his lower lip for a just a moment. ‘But if I don’t…’ Wade’s grip tightens once more.

_If you don’t then I’ll kill that creepy little Octobitch. I’ll make it nice and slow, and I won’t enjoy a minute of it. And then, Galactus help me, I’ll find a way to finally end it because there is no way I’m coming back from this with any marbles left or any reason to be here without you._

‘If you don’t,’ Wade smiles far too brightly. ‘Then I’ll take care of it, no worries, baby boy. Are we done with the “power and responsibility” stuff because right now I’m really keen to tap some of that spooky booty. I’d suggest some Patrick Swayze related quip but I think they only got to second base in “Ghost”, so…’

‘You’re an idiot.’

‘Sure - whatever gets us happy nekkid time faster.’

They kiss once more, and suddenly the couch has turned into their bed and they are both wearing far too much in the way of clothing.

‘I’m not exactly sure how this is gonna work,’ Peter admits as Wade tugs off his jeans in one go ‘I don’t know exactly what we’ll feel-’ Words disappear as Wade licks the inside of his thigh.

‘How’s that feel?’

‘Good, that feels good.’ Peter quickly replies and very soon he’s very naked and tugging at Wade’s tee-shirt. There’s a small but noticeable pause before Wade allows himself to get fully undressed whilst Peter murmurs reassurances and endearments in his ear. ‘I would never let him touch you like this,’ Peter promises, hands now gently rubbing over Wade’s exposed sides soothingly. ‘This is just for us, _only_ us.’ He’d rather die another hundred times before he let anyone touch Wade like this without his consent. Besides, he doesn’t just want sex, he wants so much more.

Uncharacteristically, Wade simply nods, no sarcastic reply, no self-deprecating comment. He just needs to savour this moment.

Their lovemaking is agonisingly slow, or at least it seems to Wade. Peter builds everything up so perfectly, so damned much - soft touches over ravaged skin, so many sweet kisses, it’s enough to make Wade’s head spin. Peter’s on top, and he seems to fill Wade utterly, the merc shuddering beneath him, frustrated and overwhelmed at each thrust, each stroke. It is both the worst and best kind of torture he has ever experienced.

It will never be enough.

They climax not long after each other, sweaty and entangled, Peter’s breath warm against his skin. Naturally Peter has to ruin it by uttering those three little words, and Wade wants to weep – not because he can’t believe that he is lovable (which incidentally he can’t) – but that this surely must mean that that the nails on the coffin lid have been hammered in, and they the two of them really are well and truly _fucked_.

Peter must see the rising panic in his features, because he shakes his head and rubs against him a little more. ‘Hey, that was probably a little final-sounding wasn’t it? Way to go with the melodrama, Parker. Maybe I should have tried out for glee club in high school, but knowing my luck I’d probably have ended up being bitten by a radioactive lighting director.’

‘Nah,’ Wade manages to counter. ‘I was just thinking it was kinda awkward because I was planning on dumping you right after for some saucy little Brazilian minx I met on eHarmony…’ whilst Peter snorts loudly into his shoulder.

‘See, now I’m coming back just to spite you.’

‘Bring it on, Spidey.’

‘Oh you know I will,’ Peter grins, eyes sparkling. ‘You won’t ever be able to get rid of me, Wade Wilson. You’re just going to have to accept you’re stuck with me.’

But when Wade eventually stirs from his alcohol induced stupor he is still alone.

 

-end part 3.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which Wade starts to break, and Octavius has a change of heart.

Peter is there the next night, and the next, but the night after Wade is dreamless. Correction – he sleeps, if you can call it that, but the nightmares return, and so do the night terrors, only Peter isn’t there to wake him up and tell him it’s okay. And that’s the problem.

Wade falls out of bed, face wet and body soaked with sweat, and all he can hear is blood rushing in his ears. His heart is heading for the nearest emergency exit, and for a moment he forgets how to breathe properly again, forgets where he is, and this time he’s certain that every mental barrier he’s managed to haphazardly cobble together with spit and duct tape around his hornet’s nest of a brain is about to be torn apart once and for all.

But then that sadistic little creature called survival instinct kicks in like a vengeful mule and he rests his head against the side of the bed and **breathes**.

‘Look,’ he begins. He’s on his knees, which seems to be a good start for this kind of thing, right? ‘I don’t actually believe in you, y’know? Or even _like_ you, if you are around, but….’ He clears his throat. ‘Screw it – anyone out there? Helloooo? Anyone, seriously – Jesus, Buddha, Thor, Whedon, I don’t care.’ What about Kali? She was the hot Indian chick with the arms and the scythe and the tongue thing, right? She seems like the kind of deity who’d get things done.

‘Just… Help him. I’d say I’m not askin’ for me, but that’s a Clinton-sized lie, and I am totally asking for me, but… Bring Peter back – the _real_ Peter and I will do anything, I swear. _Anything_. Please?’

Wade’s fallen back onto a sitting position and his eyes are so tightly pressed together they hurt.

‘Bring him back for me. For everyone, We need him, and I lo- aw fuck it all…’

He sighs, long and deep. He looks up for a sign, for a…anything and is greeted with zilch, zip, zero nada, nothing.

Spiritual Salvation – 0 Crushing Reality – 1.

Well forget all that then, he’s going to check on him for himself.

###

He finds Octavius hunched over some kind of…futuristic lampshade? He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. Wade peeks through the window at their- Peter’s old apartment, sees no floaty blue guy around, not the slightest hint of sparkly supernatural effects. His pulse flares again. Maybe Peter’s just hiding, or going to the ghost bathroom or something? Maybe Otto’s discovered him somehow and he’s-

‘What do you want, Wilson?’ Octavius asks, not even bothering to turn around in his seat. ‘Have you already forgotten my express commands from the other day, or are you really that dense?’

‘Is that a trick questions?’ Wade says, slowly climbing into the room. His eyes dart from one wall to the other. Peter’s got to be around somewhere, right?

Octavius sighs, and it’s almost enough to fool Wade into believing Peter’s back in the room until he turns and sees the expression sullying Peter’s usually kind face.

‘For the last time,’ Octavius demands, standing. ‘Say what you must then get out. You’re impeding precious research time.’

Deadpool shrugs. Yeah, I’m a known repeat impeder, me. Sometimes I just like to plain old ‘im’, but only in the shower and-’ His sentence is cut off as a ridiculously strong hand (you’ve been holding out on me Spidey, Wade absently notes) reaches around his throat and squeezes. But only for a moment.

‘Out with it!’

Wade rubs his throat and swallows a few times. Good ole’ healing factor, better than a Swiss army Knife chock full of handy plot devices.

‘I just wanted to… check.’ He admits, and it’s not like he’s lying about anything.

Otto hasn’t stepped away, but he turns his head for a moment, considering. ‘Confirming that “your” Parker hasn’t magically returned to the world of the living, that is what you are “checking”, correct?”

Wade nods.

‘Fool.” Otto sneers. ‘And unusually optimistic, especially for you – or has your desperation reached saturation levels already? You were always so pathetically clingy. Yes of course I know,’ he adds as the material in Wade’s mask shifts as his brow raises. ‘I do have access to his memories, but it’s clear you continue to pay no attention whatsoever.

Your…’boyfriend’ is not home, and will never return, understand?’ He grinds his teeth for a moment, caught between a momentay sense of pity and all-consuming disgust. Was Wilson just an imbecile through and through, or was there anything of merit before he served himself up on a plate to Department K and their ultimately misguided and utterly incompetent Weapon X Programme? Was it simply a case of the cellular flux damaging the cortex, or could it actually be-

‘Well right-o. Everything’s all spick and span now then in your new noggin, Doc? Nothin’ to see here, I get it, I really do.’ Wade eyes the still open window. ‘Funny really, because I could do with a spring clean in mine right now. You wouldn’t believe the filth that’s just lying around all over the place in there. It’s like one of those hoarding shows, only with more old copies of Playboy, and slightly less kitty poop.’ He strolls back to the window and swings out, ready to flee in a deeply manly fashion so he can go cry like a teenage girl again in his own digs.

At least that was the plan.

Instead he finds his arms securely webbed to the wall beside him as Octavius takes a long look over his trapped form as he tugs on his restraints. What makes it all the more unnerving is the fact that Octavius is giving him a look he remembers Killbrew bestowing upon him with astonishing regularity.

_Now what happens if I poke just **there**?_

‘Look, I know you’re into the whole bondage and tentacles thing, Ock, but I think it’s safe to say I’m no longer interested in that kind of a relationship with you. I was thinking something more along the lines of causal Facebook stalking, maybe the occasional Marvel Team-Up?’

‘I may have been a little hasty in dismissing you,’ Octavius proclaims, slowly cracking his knuckles, pop pop pop. ‘In fact, I believe it would be in mine, and the human race’s interest for a re-evaulation of our…. “relationship”, if you will.’

Wade’s body stiffens, most definitely not in the fun way.

‘Not in any kind of romantic or sexual way of course,’ Octavius continues. ‘But you theoretically possess the power to heal so many individuals. Well, I’m sure you understand why I would be interested.’ He raises a hand and places it over Wade’s heart, ignoring the flinch.

Octavious smiles. It isn’t pleasant. ‘Astonishing increase in heart rate,’ he notes to an invisible gaggle of students in the room. ‘Why, it’s as if you have a hummingbird trapped in there. Quite poetic, and yet I think there’s so much more beauty in the sight of bare flesh and bone laid bare – the perfect canvas…’

‘Momma always said no vivisection on the first date.’ Wade babbles, desperately trying to get his hands free, even if it means bringing half of the wall down. ‘And I’ve already been through that little literal slice of heartbreak before, so how about you play Mr Nice Spider Guy and-‘

He’s interrupted once more as the hand over his heart starts moving up toward his masked face.

‘I’m certain that ridiculous and borderline litigious mask of yours is obscuring your view in every possible sense,’ Otto says, and his voice sounds all weird and thick like treacle mixed with chloroform, and just as Wade is ready to snap both of his own wrists, Octavius’ hand is suddenly yanked away in what looks to be a completely involuntary gesture.

Octavius stops and looks as if he has been slapped. He frowns.

‘Well maybe perhaps not today then.’ he mutters to himself. ‘I have other fish to fy.’ He leans in once more toward Wade, who’s ready to start biting if needs be, only to move away again as Wade feels the sticky webbing torn from his wrists.

‘Think about it, Wilson!’ He calls after the fleeing mercenary, still momentarilydistracted by this intiguing new diversion. ‘Think of what you can offer humanity!’

Wade dives for the window without a further word.

###

He makes it back to his apartment, stupidly proud that he didn’t throw up again that time, because he’s having a hard time working out any possible worse scenario than the image of the man he loves doing things to him that still make him break out in a cold sweat every night

And he hates himself just that little bit more for feeling so scared, so… helpless. That’s not him, and it hasn’t been him for many years.

_Love guts you_ , he reminds himself. _It rips out your innards and leaves ‘em out for any Tom Dick or Harry Osborn to come and play with as soon as they catch the scent. ___

__He kicks the nearest object to him – the couch – and keeps kicking until it’s pounding against the wall, making a nice new dent. His fists clench and unclench, and more than anything right now he need to go out and just… destroy. And there’s nothing to stop him now, is there? Peter isn’t there, maybe he wasn’t ever there. Maybe the whole ghost thing is just in his head. Pete’s either dead and gone, or the whole relationship was a lie in the first place, a fiction created by his messed up brain to torture himself. How is he supposed to know?_ _

__The feelings were real though, something tells him. Every heart-scouring minute of them._ _

__Wade snarls, grabs his favourite knife and cuts a bloody swathe through New York’s criminal nightlife._ _

__When he returns, his suit bloodied, copper on his breath, he find no satisfaction. There’s no adrenalin pumping through his veins, no sense of justice to make his cause feel worthy. He’s just tired and empty._ _

__Sleep eventually finds him before the sun starts to rise._ _

__And so does Peter._ _

__###_ _

__‘Wade?’ Peter hesitantly begins. He’s scratching the back of his neck Wade notices. He always does that when he gets awkward and nervy. It’d be downright adorable if it were real._ _

__‘Which one are you again?’_ _

__Peter pauses mid-step. ‘What with the who now?’_ _

__Wade shrugs (he notes he’s been doing an awful lot of that recently, it’s almost as if some kind of lazy writer couldn’t think of a better motion, but instead he chalks it up to existential ennui. That’s the French for ‘bored out of your skull’, right?), throwing his arm out and starts ticking the possibilities off on his fingers._ _

__‘Let’s see, we have the not-so Amazing Spider-Corpse, Peter Poltergeist, the Superior Shacked-Up Spidey, and then there’s whatever in the name of Sweet Bea has got into my head right now that I’m talking to. You’re probably just a result of one-too many knives to the eye tonight, or maybe a combination of that chocolate milk and rubbing alcohol cocktail I tried earlier on, or maybe just my messed-up brain being especially cruel – that’s my top runner, by the way nudge nudge wink wink. I mean, I-I didn’t even see you there, Pete!’ his voice starts to crack, sentences falling on top of each other. ‘I looked harder than they did for Bin Laden, and there was _nothing_. So I figured it out – I’ve snapped. Gone. My clock’s been de-cuckoo’d. Get out the glittery crayons and safety scissors because Wade Wilson is officially- OW!’_ _

__Wade’s jaw drops comically low. ‘You slapped me!’ He blinks. ‘Is there going to be a hair-pulling contest now because I’ve got a pretty serious advantage going on here.’_ _

__Peter looks at his hand. He barely left a mark on either of them. ‘Yes I slapped you, because you’re acting hysterical, and dangerous, and I needed to get your attention.’_ _

__Wade blinks. ‘But-‘_ _

__A hand touches his shoulder, and just for the slightest moment Peter feels him flinch. That son-of-a-bitch, Octavius. He’s done the impossible and actually made Wade _fear_ him, and that is truly unforgivable. He pushes down the small wave of guilt that laps at his insides._ _

__‘I’m sorry I hit you Wade,’ he says, keeping his voice as calm as possible. ‘But I need you to focus here. I’m know I’m not exactly what you’d call physically real, but I am me, and I’m not some hallucination or secret supervillain out to get you. I was there earlier on – I stopped him from touching you, but I’m so drained. He’s taking a bit more of me away each day.’ He closes his eyes for a moment, tries to breathe and then remembers just how ridiculous that is. ‘You have to pull yourself together, just hold on a bit longer, okay?’_ _

__‘And what if I can’t?’_ _

__Wade sits. He’s not even sure where they are in his head – everything looks grey and insubstantial, not like the replica apartment he sees when they meet before. ‘What if I just can’t do this? You are every little bit of good in my life now, don’t you get it? I can’t be…’ He swallows, avoiding eye-contact. ‘You make me a _person_ again.’_ _

__Peter has fallen to his knees beside him. His hand shakes for a moment before he swallows and gently hooks a finger under Wade’s chin and looks him in the eye. He doesn’t know how much of a lie this is going to be, but what he says next cannot afford to leave any doubt lingering._ _

__‘I have a plan.’ His voice is steady. ‘We’re going to get rid of him once and for all, and Wade? I **promise** you it is going to work. So I need you to hang on to this – us - ’ he takes a larger hand in his and squeezes it gently. ‘for just a minute longer. Just one minute, can you do that?’_ _

__Wade nods._ _

__‘Good. And when we get through that minute we’re going to make it through the next one, and the one after.’_ _

__‘And then?’_ _

__‘Then I come home.’_ _

__-end pt 4._ _


	5. Chapter 5

Wade is cheerfully willing to admit that he’s no genius. He can’t even remember much of his education, but he’s pretty sure it involved drawing inappropriate images on pictures of the Founding Fathers, detention, and Serious Talks About Your Future.

However, he’s almost certain that Peter’s plan to reveal himself to Octavius fall into the ‘decidedly not smart’ category.

'Lemme get this straight,' he looks at Peter, who's nodding enthusiastically. 'Your cunning plan to get rid of him is to make him try to get rid of you?'

'Yup. Only with a bonus bait 'n switcheroo.'

Wade’s hand drifts down to Peter’s – or at least the dream/imaginary/whatever pseudo scientific explanation Pete’s come up with – and unconsciously he takes it in his own. ‘And you really think he’s dumb enough to fall for that?’

'Nope, but I think he just might be arrogant enough.'

Wade sighs as dramatically as possible, drawing it out until all of the breath leaves his body. Nope, he’s still lost.

'Remind me why we're not getting the Avengers, or the Fabulous Four, or the Sassy Six or whoever to help with this instead of y'know – me?' Oh, Wade has skills, he knows this. You need a guy to slice and dice? He's your brodude. But freaking brain surgery? Hell, he's the shining example of the 'Before' picture when it comes to How Not To Screw Up Your Noggin: A Losers Guide.

'Because,' Peter tries to be delicate, but fails. 'For the sixteenth time, they don't know we're… a 'we', aaaand they won't believe you.'

'Oh right, I forget: the shame thing.'

'I'm not ashamed of you!'

Wade gives him a Look.

'Well okay I am ashamed of you sometimes, but not of us being together.' Peter squeezes his hand for a moment and almost looks away. 'It's just none of their business who I date or… love, okay?'

Wade’s heart does that awkward thing where it threatens to burst with happiness and leak heart juice and nearly thirty years worth of deep-fried cholesterol all over the bed they’re currently occupying.

'Oh.' he says, feeling decidedly un merc-with-a-mouthy. 'Right then. I uh, too do the – the thing. With you.'

'Wow, it's like I'm dating Byron or something.'

'Hey, I'm a one-man man here. No dead Romantic poet threesomes for you.'

Blinking, Peter rolls them so he’s straddling Wade quite comfortably. He shoots him an accusatory glare. ‘You have read Byron? You?!’

'If by “read” you mean I watched him on that late night undoubtedly historically accurate infomercial for genital herpes pills then yes, totally.'

'You take the 'cl' out of class, Wade.' Peter murmurs, pressing a kiss to his exposed jawline. Wade makes a soft noise of pleasure and tightens his grip around Peter's waist.

'I'm the assiest!,' he cheerfully asserts as they continue into round three.

Round three leads to round four because if the whole healing factor and ghost combination is good for one thing, it’s stamina. Unfortunately for both of them, that’s the only thing it’s good for. Peter doesn’t want to make the obvious gag, but everything still feel just a bit, well.. hollow.

Time for a change.

####

No-one ever said the change was easy. Or fast, for that matter.

Stupid no-one, Wade grumbles, fingers resting over the hilt of a katana. He taps out a staccato beat, once, twice. A causal observer would think him bored, but Wade is far from it. He’s terrified. He’s been handed a Responsibility, and it’s really not his forte.

He finds himself standing in front of Ock-in-Peter…urgh no, what’s a better name for it? Pok? Spider-Ock? Spock? Can Star Trek sue for that kinda thing? He digresses. The point is, well – this is it. Showtime. Gunfight at the OK Corral, and all that jazz. Maybe he should have bought a special hat.

It was surprisingly easy enough getting him there. Peter had performed some ghost voodoo or whatnot, made himself known to Otto, and exactly as predicted, the former Elton John wannabe had decided to kick his spooky little hide out of its former home. Well absolutely no luck whatsoever with that, Wade snarls to himself, his tapping increasing. Squatters rights can go suck the big one. He’s so agitated he can’t even bother to mentally add the obvious innuendo. His little yellow box is decidedly unimpressed.

All he’s got to do, he reminds himself is be there, push a few buttons at the right time on that stupid helmet-lampshade thing Not-Peter’s wearing and, oh yes, kill the man passed out in the chair in front of him if things go south. Piece of Spidey-shaped pie.

###

_Earlier on:_

'Not that I'm planning on any of this going wrong – or that it will but…' Peter begins, somewhat hesitant.

Wade’s brow furrows. ‘But…?’

Peter pauses. He doesn’t know how to put this, doesn’t want to freak Wade out with this massive terrible burden, but he has to. Because no-one else can.

So he says the words that have never left his mouth before.

'If doesn't work, and I don't come back then… I want you to kill him.'

'Okay.'

'Damnit Wade, don't argue about- wait what?'

'I said okie dokey, kiddo. You got some ectoplasm gunking up your ears or what?'

'No, but I didn't think…'

'I'd do it?' Wade shrugs. 'C'mon Pete, if you ain't in there, then the lights are going out for good, doesn't matter how nice your butt may be (and might I add it is a seriously fine piece of ass).'

Peter cocks his head. ‘That was almost sweet.’

'What can I say? I'm an incurable romantic. No wait, that's just the herpes thing.'

###

Wade’s promises of “incurable romance” make Peter’s determination all the more genuine as he finds himself locked in the most ridiculously intense life-or-death match of his life, uh… Death? Existence? It looks as if even his beloved wordplay is running away from him.

Blows raining on him from all sides, from all sorts of familiar villainous faces remind him that’s the least of his worries right now. He’s in Octavius’ not quite so sub-conscious and they’re both giving all they’ve got. Otto is armed with the rest of the Six, along with what seems like every villain, thug or general un-well wisher Peter’s ever met, and they are a superior force. Yeah, he can’t ignore that dumb description, especially when it’s so damned apt. They’re stronger, faster, more experienced, and there’s so many more of them fighting than Peter has gathered around in his mental landscape.

It should be hopeless. In every obvious way it is. And Octavius is taunting him, knowing all this.

Thankfully for Peter, this is ultimately a battle of wills, and his friends and family are the strongest, bravest, most damn stubborn people he’s ever met. His Aunt, MJ, Carlie….Gwen. And Wade of course. Wade is there and nothing on, in, or above Earth will make him ever give him up now.

“You should have failed Bio 101, Ock,’ Peter crows, delivering a sound kick to his opponent’s face.

'Hah! A pathetic distraction. You're babbling now, Parker, you know this battle was won before it ever began.'

'They haven't really evolved that much, you know,' Peter continues. 'Spiders, I mean. Not from the basic model. You call yourself “superior”; more evolved, more intelligent, but you forget the most important thing about evolution.' He dodges, weaves, he feels life and hope seeping into ever pore of his being. 'It's not about being smarter or meaner, or making potentially world-ending toys. It's about the best-adapted. I adapted, and you know what? I never had to kill anyone to do it either!'

The Wade in his head offers a thumbs-up as he delivers a roundhouse kick to the Lizard’s scaly temple, sending him down to the ground, hard. ‘…and that CGI was really cheap and tacky-looking’ is the last thing Peter overhears before his attention is brought back to his opponent.

'Hey, you know what they say, Otto - if it ain't broke,' he yells, finally giving the old phony a sound right hook, sneding him crashing to the floor, 'then it don't need fixing!'

Octavius lays on the ground, a stunned heap of flesh. The rest of his crew have disappeared, and it’s just him and Peter now. He’s fading, he can’t seem to hold the illusion of his form within his – no within Peter’s mindscape.

'Impossible,' he whispers. 'This…not right at all. I won…I beat you!'

Peter shakes his head, rage draining and being replaced by something else entirely. His voice is quiet clipped. ‘No. This is my mind, my body. Mine. It was never yours to steal, Otto, to abuse. You finally ran out of last minutes.’

They exchange once more glance, eye to eye before the man who stole Peter Parker’s life away finally disappears.

'I think I'd like to wake up now.'

###

The pinky finger on his left hand twitches.

A blink and Wade is at his side, blade hovering a millimetre from the jugular of the man in the chair.

Peter blinks again, slowly and tries to speak. He’s sitting in a dim room but it seems all of the sun’s rays are focused in a tight beam, aimed directly at his corneas. Owchie.

'Mrrmf?'

The blade doesn’t waver, although Wade’s voice does. ‘Peter?’

'Hey.' Peter swallows heavily. His eyes start to adjust to the light and he tries taking off that stupid thing from his head but his limbs are being decidedly uncooperative. Did someone switch his tendons for silly sting or-.

Wade’s eyes narrow.

Peter coughs. Oh wonderful, that hurts too. ‘Is everyone okay?’

What if he’s missed something? What if Octavius got to Aunt May somehow without him knowing, or- ‘Are you okay?’ Every syllable seeps more energy from him, makes him just want to pass out, but he needs to know now. No more death. He made a promise.

'My question first.' The blade presses a little deeper, almost drawing blood. 'What's the word?'

'Wh- oh!,' Crap, he'd almost forgot! '”My Sharona” is the most under-appreciated piece of pop genius in history.' Peter carefully repeats. The ole' secret password failsafe. Octavius may have had all of Peter's living memories to draw on, but this was discussed just a few days ago in the privacy of Wade's head.

Peter has never been so pleased to unburden himself of Wade’s terrible taste in music.

The blade is lowered and a grinning scarred visage finally comes into focus. Well if that isn’t the prettiest view he ever did see.

'…Yeah, kiddo' Wade finally affirms in frighteningly gentle tones. 'Everyone's okay now.'

Hands sweep out of his view and he feels a weight removed from his head. Much better. No more heavy mind zapping device accessories for him. Although now he’s certain he’s going to experience Phantom Hat Head for a good few minutes.

Wade makes sure all buckles, wires and other paraphernalia is carefully removed from the area (read: ripped out and tossed in the furthest corner) before he takes another long look at what Peter thinks must be his derpiest looking expression, judging form the way Wade’s looking at him as if his brains about to start running from his ears. .

'You alright there, Spidey?'

Peter nods and instantly regrets it. ‘Yup,’ he says, unmoving ‘I’m fine, totally fine. Hey you wanna go check out that extreme pogo jousting place?’

Wade arches a sceptical brow, which is really rather impressive, when Peter comes to think about it, considering Wade doesn’t even have eyebrows.

'M'kay,' Peter unsuccessfully attempts to hold back a yawn. 'I'm a terrible liar.' He shrugs, or attempts to at least, and fervently prays that he doesn't slide out of the chair and on to the floor. 'Little help?'

Wade’s smile is dangerously wide and his eyes are positively misty. Or is that just Peter’s? He doesn’t really care as he finds strong arms pull him up and arrange his own limbs so he’s piggybacking the merc.

'Do your sticky thing, Spidey,' Wade commands, and lo and behold it turns out something works, because he's not falling off when Deadpool gets up and starts for the exit.

Peter closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of gunpowder and… is that his shower gel? Huh. ‘Sentimental dork,’ he mutters, but it’s barely a breath of air against Wade’s warm skin. He feels them jerk up and down every now and then, the ride is bumpy and well – so is Wade – but he’s so warm and smells wonderful, and Peter feels like he could smush his face against his neck like this all year and be entirely sated, because he’s alive, New York is still standing, and his loved ones are safe and exactly where they should be right now.

'Mmm.' he sighs, and when he next opens his eyes he's in his bed.

It’s cold and empty.

'Wade?' he calls out, somewhat tentatively, as he glances around the bedroom. His limbs are still made of jell-o, but his head has stopped spinning, and he's able to shuffle his body up into an almost-sitting position.

Miraculously managing to jam himself against the window frame in what Peter can only assume must be an uncomfortable position, Wade his watching him, frighteningly quiet. Peter offers him a small wave and a yawn.

'Still not certain I'm me? I get that.' He swallows, really not wanting to release the next few words from his mouth. 'If you need time alone…' Pleasedon'ttakethatseriouslypleasedon't-

Wade blinks (at least he’s not wearing his mask, that’s got to be a good sign, right? Peter reasons). ‘Huh? Just how much did the guy scramble your brains, Pete? Are we talking normal lumpy home-made stuff or the McSlurry you only get in-‘

Peter sighs and slumps back into the cool pillow thoughtfully placed, propping him up. ‘Coherent sentences. Try them. Please?’

'I was thinking.'

'See now there's your problem.' Peter can't help but rise to the bait. It's become so ingrained in him, he barely needs to think before some kind of insult or joke ping-pongs its way across. Wade doesn't even acknowledge it, he just stares at a bare hand, flicks an imaginary piece of dirt from the end of a fingernail and continues.

'I've got the opposite problem, Spidey.. Peter.' He extricates himself from the window-ledge and starts to pace the room. 'I didn't want to-. I wasn't doing so well without you,' he confesses, purposefully ignoring Peter's gaze. 'I mean, I was living but I didn't really…' He sighs and wipes a sweaty hand over his brow. 'I can't do this without you around now, okay, and I don't want to. And that scares me in all sorts-a unmanly ways.'

Peter beckons him over with a finger, patting the bed invitingly.

The mattress dents and Wade flops beside him. ‘Wow, this sounded so much better after rehearsing it the first fifteen times in my head. Maybe I should have gone with the British accent version. Neurotic, yet classy.’

Warm arms slide around him and carefully draw him close. Peter smiles into his shoulder, adding a quick kiss. ‘I missed you too, big guy.’ Wade feels so beautifully solid, so warm, so real. His grip tightens just a little bit. He chuckles. ‘I don’t think I can let go now.’

'Just wait until you have to pee, trust me.'

'I didn't mean physically.'

'Oh.'

'Darn skippy. And it is scary, Wade I know. It's trusting that you'll be there when I wake up in the morning, it's knowing that we're more than just epic makeout sessions and tacos (not that I have a problem with that), and it's showing each other who we really are. It's kind've a huge thing. I **want** it to be a huge thing.’

Wade takes a good long look at his bed partner – his lover, his (urgh) boyfriend? His much much better half, that’s for sure, and blanches as he realises that he’s absolutely serious. ‘I knew I should have bought that brown underwear I saw at JCPs…’

'Wade…'

'I know, I know-'

Peter presses the entire length of his body against his, and maybe Wade’s just imagining it, but for that moment it feels like they’re…velcro or something because they just connect. It all fits. It feels right. Is that even allowed anymore for someone like him? He tries really hard to care and joyously fails.

'You were my hero tonight.' Peter maintains steady eye contact. 'I honestly don't think I could have got through this without you.'

'I…don't have a witty retort for that.'

Warm lips press against his own. ‘You don’t need one. I swear I won’t tell anyone I left you speechless,’ Peter smirks only a little bit. When they kiss, it’s not the grand sweeping kiss you see at the movies. It’s not roses and fireworks or dramatic gestures in the rain, or anything like that.

It’s a promise.

-end


End file.
